Helena Merez and the Hero's Armor
by GreekGeekz
Summary: Helena Ariadne Merez is a demigod. Part mortal, part Olympian god. Not only that, but she is forced by her own immortal family to get sent back in time to protect the impossible – Luke Castellan, and try to stop him from destroying everything the gods have known for eons. As the battle grows closer, and as Helena becomes more attached to Hermes' son, what will she decide? ένα βιβλ


_**ένας **_

_**Helena**_

**HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SURROUNDED** by the most powerful figures on the globe, all at least twice as tall as yourself, all arguing over a fate that you had absolutely no control over? What if this fate just so happened to be yours? Yup, that's what the twelve Olympians were doing in front of the now fourteen year old Helena Merez.

As if finding out that she was part, wait _half_, immortal wasn't enough, she was being forced back into time. And to top all of that, her favorite waffles were soggy today. Now she might've been getting ahead of herself, but Helena didn't really have any other options with the looming gods and goddesses that were shouting threats at each other in rapid Greek, their wonderfully beautiful robes that seemed to glow in the basking light, now distinctively turning more run down and raggedy every time one of them had shouted an indecent remark about their lover or something. That or it was about a kitchen basin. But it was probably the lover.

You see, this whole mess had started an early day of September for the average teenager, who happened to live in upstate New York in one of the most dysfunctional boarding schools there was in the entire nation. Sure, there were a few places for delinquents that could've been way worse than where the 'troubled' girl was staying now, but none of those would have been as bad as seeing the small, pushed back, face of Elaine Eduard every day since Helena had started school at the Verona Academic Academy Guiding School for the Troubled, also known as more revolting names by most of the students there.

Even on her first day, Helena had this gut feeling that she wasn't going to be doing a great job with her poor social skills the minute she stepped into her shared dorm with Astrid Sotm. Now, if a name had anything to do with character, the brunette would have done what she was best at, and totally zone out, but Astrid was undeniably one of the better people on the 'campus'. She had spirals of hair that were always done perfectly, the deepest shade of green eyes you could imagine, and a complexion that matched a porcelain dolls. The first words that were exchanged between the two were ones that Helena got to know well during her first hour of being toured around the institution. Wherever you went, whoever you met, you were always asked the same three words.

"What'd you do?" She grinned, as if proud of the fact of being sent to a place for bad kids. Helena silently wondered if the red head was out of her mind, or just the fact of being here for a period of time changed a person into being proud of crimes.

Even put in light circumstances, this was not one of the things that the brunette had been expecting to be bombarded with in the first five minutes of meeting one of the four people she was about to spend an entire school year with. Yes, as she had stepped into the room suddenly there were two sets of bunk beds that stood out against the faded blue walls in a shade of scarlet so obnoxious that it nearly burned the eyes of the poor girl. There was one bed directly in front of the door, and the other on the adjoining wall. A busted, duct taped blue chair sat in the corner near the only window, collecting dust at light speed. Her tan skin feeling cold, she stumbled through the small wooden door and set it down on the lower bunk closest to that same door. Putting all of her weight on the heavily used mattress, it bended in an abnormal position that evaded any feasible explanation of the fourteen year old that was supposed to be sleeping on this for one hundred and eighty days.

Helena smiled a little, and gritted her teeth. There was no way she would be able to lie here – someone could easily go and steal her private information. She let go of the large and densely packed bags, and then realized how badly her arms hurt from carrying them up six flights of steps, as the only elevators used in the school just so happened to be off limits for all students. Even those with disabilities, because apparently there are a lot of kids in wheelchairs pickpocketing and stealing stuff in upstate New York.

"I accidentally set my mom's ex-boyfriend on fire." Stated the nervous girl, waiting for the flood of nasty questions to come in and make her feel more uncomfortable with every inquiring syllable.

The look on her roommate's face changed slightly with shock, but after that the green eyed stranger cracked a wide grin. The teenager didn't look much older than her, most likely around the same age. This made Helena feel like a two hundred pound weight had been lifted off of her chest. All the people she had seen walk into the opposite side of the large brick building that contained the dorms had looked four or five years older than the middle schooler, and that thought didn't sound too appeasing to a socially awkward girl.

"That's so cool! I didn't do squat compared to that!" The mystery girl exclaimed, throwing her hands above her head and nearly jumping off the dark blue comforter that she proclaimed to have set up herself. It was plaid with many other distinguishing colors that said 'This is my bunk. You wish your bunk was as cool as mine.'

"M-My name's Helena. Helena Merez." Said girl blurted out, stuttering in the process. She could feel her cheeks grow warm from embarrassment, and instantly pressed her hands to her face to cool it off, and hopefully stop the burning red sensation from growing on her face, but it made her look even more ridiculous than she hoped. Her roommate just giggled, and started to take things out of Helena's deep purple bags that surprisingly held all of her things that she would need. Or at least what she thought she needed.

"You're funny. Nice to meet 'cha, Merez. Legally, I'm Astrid Sotm. But if you ever call me that, I swear I might just strangle you. Just call me Storm, 'kay?" She winked on the last word, making the shy girl sitting on the bed smile. "Let me help 'ya unpack. It's the least I can do."

"I have a question."

"Mhhmmn." Said Storm, her head bobbing up and down to a silent song that Helena couldn't hear. Storm was such a goofball, so outgoing toward strangers, that the girl opposite her couldn't help but admire her.

"What'd _you_ do?"

"Nothin' much, if you count running away from home for at least three years." Helena was a bit startled at the news, but shot her first chance of a friend in this detention center a wary smile.

"…Rad."

That was the moment that the two of them knew that they would be together for a long time. If only that were true. The two of them had been separated on their way to the Empire State Building, which the new student was confused and dazed when she had found out that who she thought was her dad for fourteen long years of her life ended up being a trick of the Mist, a device that tricked mortals' eyes into rationalizing things. Her mother had convinced little unknowing Helena that her father was an important business official whom had never been reported missing or dead after a large plane crash in other half of the country. Not dead – never dead, just missing. It had never occurred to the girl that her mother's lies had been inconsistent. One day, he was a pilot, and the other, an ambassador from another country. Eventually, after meeting Storm at the Academy, Helena broke down and demanded to know about her father. The truth about her father that she had waited years and years for couldn't be contained any longer - Helena wasn't a human, as she had thought she was. Her father ended up being one of the Grecian gods, from thousands of years back. The original conversation of this couldn't have been more than two weeks ago, but to the lonely girl it felt like a lifetime without one of her only friends traveling with her. As the imposing figures still loomed and fought and threatened, the demigod's mind wandered, as it always had a quality of doing so. It flew back to the day that Storm told her what was going on, and that she wasn't alone in being half-Olympian.

They were in a run down, shady part of New York City, trying not to be scented by one of the many monsters that seemed to have been trailing the pair through the slums and ghettos of the ever-busy city. Normally, Helena wouldn't even notice a small block of apartments while taking in the skyscrapers and the large, obnoxious crowds that liked to push and pull and grab and steal and do almost anything that couldn't be legal in any other city than this one. It could be considered a crime in itself to have this many people squeezed onto a sidewalk so large it could have held six or seven people side to side, and them all able to communicate perfectly with one another.

"How do you survive here?" Helena nearly shouted, trying to be heard above all the noise from the city – the cars honking at the sound of tourists, people all trying to talk above one another, and the pedestrians had more road rage than the drivers sitting for hours at a time.

"That's the thing – you don't. We just have to get to the Empire State Building without being seen by anyone who might kil-I mean try to take us back to the school where 'Everyone is treated as though they treated others.' What complete bull dinky." Storm had a thing for not cursing, even if it made her look silly and childish in the most mature and hardened cities in the entire nation. "They weren't very good at keeping peace, at least not for the partially normal students, like me and you – right?"

Helena gave a short "Mhhmmn." As an unconscious response whilst the dark haired teenager stared up at the overcast sky, wondering for the umpteenth time that day if it was going to start down pouring on the two girls with no money, no place to go, and avoiding the police at all costs. Did she know the backstreets of New York? No way could that be possible, unless either of them had a photographic memory of some sort.

It was in this sky, this dreary, blank, and slate gray sky that Helena suddenly got the feeling that they were headed in the opposite direction. She didn't know how, but something had embellished a feeling deep inside her gut that if they were to continue traveling in the direction they were headed, it would take days to find one of the tallest buildings in the city. Instincts took over, and in a matter of minutes the girl was fifty feet, one hundred feet away from her only guide in the over populated city that not only scared the rural girl, but intrigued and fascinated her with the possibility that _this_ many people could fit themselves into merely just a large town that became infested with those obsessed with fame and wealth.

Passing by on the sidewalks, Helena didn't notice the wooden boards nailed over broken windows. She didn't see the broken glass on the dirty and litter filled streets, or that some of the common metal was dried and bloody from the imminent fights that had broken out previously. And she definitely didn't take note of the dark, hidden shadow that was lurking in the only place of the alley where there was no light shedding on it, behind the stark green dumpster that sat in the backs of all New York buildings.

The only thing she could make out of a blurry vision was the swirling tufts of gray, spinning and twirling around so that no one could mistake it for a simple shower. The teenager _knew_ that something was wrong and that the sky was trying to foreshadow events Helena wished she had known in that moment. Her hazelnut brown eyes bored into the same spot in the ever darkening sky, like a living and breathing statue as it moved toward being unknowingly shattered by a stronger, more powerful force sending her to this very spot. And very far away from the only person the demigod knew within what was it forty, fifty miles? Without looking down, a large knot in her stomach – she had left Storm without a second thought. Without a second regret. Like Helena knew eventually the red head would find her, but how could she be so sure? In a city this big, with thousands and thousands of people walked through every day. Surely no one was going to see a small, worn-down, on the run teenager in those masses. Even with her friend's added senses, Storm had forgotten to make an empathy link between the two, so in case a situation like this had happened, the two would be easily reunited.

"Don't worry, child. That satyr would have been of no use to someone like you. She was leading you straight to your death – had I not intervened."

The sudden voice, so deep and powerful surprised the girl, taking her out of the trance that had imprisoned her for what felt like centuries. She didn't know what was worse – preparing to talk to some stranger in the middle of an unknown alley, or talking to a disembodied voice that could possibly be the scariest entity in New York City, while standing in the middle of an unknown alley.

Two brick buildings sat on either side of the teenager, one cutting off before the other, leading to an unseen corner of the dismal place.

"Yes, there is reason to be afraid of me. I am your mother's greatest enemy, child." It spoke again, the sheer tone dragging her toward the center of the alley. It was terrifying, and sent chills down the stained and ripped burgundy tee shirt that once hugged her body, and now draped off of her like a limp, lifeless with the struggle to find food.

Helena tried to fight, brain pleading with her feet not to move any further. It didn't work. Somehow, it felt like all access to the lower part of her body had paralyzed itself, forcing her limbs into perpetual lock-down mode, sleeping until the _thing_ that was controlling her motions like a puppet master was stopped. Somehow.

"Closer, closer, closer..." The voice whispered, its edges cracking against its smooth and creamy outside layers. Helena didn't know if mere voices could have layers to them without some deeper meaning, but her thoughts were drowned by that of the blood curdling scream she released from her lips.

All of the energy stopped, and out stepped a boy no older than her. He wore a black leather jacket, jointed with his My Chemical Romance Shirt and dark wash jeans. He looked restless, with bags under his large, shell-shocked eyes. The girl had to admit, dude had some pretty intriguing eyes, the color nearly matching his pupils, which made her involuntarily take another step toward the unknown teenager. He was pale, and not a normal shade of pale, but rather he looked like he spent months of his life – maybe even years – avoiding the sun and its warmth.

He chuckled.

"Guess that didn't work too well. Dad's going to be pissed." He turned aside, to throw on a pair of sandals. Much to the girl's confusion. He took a step toward the brunette, and she immediately turned and attempted to run away from the mysterious and frightening boy, before he tackled her to the ground, head banged against the concrete of the alley.

The last thing Helena saw was the boy whistling to the brick wall and out popped a dog that had to be three times larger than her, with triple the heads. Everything went black.


End file.
